Feeding on Fever
by isawrightless
Summary: She's suddenly reminded of the first time he took her to meet his parents. At the doorstep, right before knocking, he turned to her and said: be good.


As he keeps his eyes on the road, hands on the stirring wheel and silence on his lips, she realizes his desperation takes over the inside of the car like a dark cloud, like something pretty and sad and threatening. She can't stop staring at him, at the way he's clenching his jaw and the way he refuses to acknowledge anything but street signs. Street signs are easy, she thinks, and doesn't blame him. He drives, takes them home, and through it all he keeps his mouth shut tight in a thin line.

Claire sighs.

She knows what he's thinking, and she wants to shake him and tell him to stop being silly, but she keeps to herself, choosing to let him be. She's afraid though, he's prone to horrible panic attacks (and that's a secret he had no choice but to share when one night, plagued by nightmares, he woke up screaming and trying to catch his breath, scared out of his mind, reaching for her as his lungs betrayed him, and again one day when Sherry wouldn't answer her phone and he was convinced something bad had happened to her), and she doesn't want him to go through another attack, even though she's well aware it's something she can't stop, and telling him things will be fine isn't going to solve anything.

She has learned that the attacks began when he was eight and his best friend at the time, Mark, died in a car crash on a family trip to the beach.

Mark was a scrawny little kid who had a crooked smile and liked to wear baseball caps. Some were too big for his head, and they'd often fall on his face and cover his eyes and Leon would laugh and wear them himself, proud that they were a perfect fit. They would make the silliest of bets, wonder about Marie, the beautiful girl who lived next door, and talk about what they'd like to do once they grew up.

Mark liked the idea of being a doctor.

Leon thought being a cop was the coolest job in the world.

Then Mark died, and the thought of getting inside a car would make Leon forget how to breathe. His mother sent him to therapy, and it took a while, but he went back to getting inside of cars and thinking about best friends.

However, the attacks never went away, and the fear of death installed itself right into his heart, promised it was there to stay.

He's okay with dying, he explained to her one day, it's the thought of losing the people he loves that makes his skin crawl and his head spin and his lungs ache.

And she has learned that when an attack happens, she needs to let it happen and be there for him, no matter how painful it is to watch him like that. He always searches for her hand, and she waits with him, tries to calm him down without alarming him, without treating him like a child.

(but she's scared too and it's making her toes curl)

She rubs her belly and the smile is already on her lips.

There's a baby in there. A baby that she's been growing inside of her with all the love and care in the world for five months now.

A minute before they're able to spot their house from the corner of the street, Claire catches him staring at her.

He smiles, too, but she can feel the sadness all the way to her fingertips.

She wants to say something, make fun of the way his hair looks today—-it's a mess, really—but they're already parked in front of their house, which is not big but it's nice and cozy and theirs, and he's already out, opening the car door for her and helping her stand. It's something that always warms her heart and she's really not into this chivalry thing. She never cared for it, but he did it for the first time when they were still in their twenties and they were still friends and they were still learning how to lead normal lives, and she thought it was the cutest thing. Of course he'd open the car door for her. Of course he'd be a gentleman.

All she can think about is how nice this is.

That this is the man who's going to raise their daughter, and he's a gentleman and knows how to treat a woman—-with respect and affection. And given how perfect he's been with Sherry, she can only imagine how he's going to be with the little one.

He digs the key from his pocket and opens their front door and she realizes he's holding her hand. He doesn't let go until they're both standing in the middle of the living room, and she's trying to think of something to say, but he's avoiding looking into her eyes.

She swears she can hear his heartbeat.

"We haven't eaten anything yet, you…you need to eat. I'll cook something for us, okay, and you stay here. You need to rest and…"

He's not paying attention to his own words. They're stumbling upon each other, losing their meaning.

It's breaking Claire's heart.

She takes his hand in hers, his sweaty, cold palm on her warm skin, and searches for his eyes.

"Leon," he looks at her, and his blue is so different from hers, so much darker and deep. She wonders if their baby will have his eyes. "I'm fine."

The word breaks him.

She can tell by the way he breathes, and clenches his jaw again. The way he looks at her, as if she's this fragile, rare thing, and the way he's trying to hold himself together.

"Hey," she tries again. "I'm fine, Leon, you don't-"

"You're not fine," he says, and it's sudden and raw, it robs her of her power of speech for a second. "You're not fine. The doctor made that very clear."

"No, she didn't," she says, shaking her head. "All she did was tell us that I have high blood pressure, and yes, that's dangerous and we should keep an eye on it, but she never said I wasn't fine, she never—"

"Claire, I was there, you saw the look on her face and…I…shit, I shouldn't…" he stops talking, takes a deep breath and sits on the couch, hides his face on his hands. She watches him, gives him a moment before sitting next to him and bringing his hands down, making him look at her again.

His eyes are red and watery.

"I'm one hell of a husband, aren't I?" he asks, shaking his head and carrying on without giving time for Claire to speak. "I should be comforting you and telling you things are going to be okay, but I'm just…"

She smiles, then, and gives him a kiss on the lips that lasts longer than it was intended to, and then she says, "You're a great husband. You're so great that you got yourself worked up over a tiny little thing—"

"Tiny? Claire, she—"

"—said my blood pressure was high and that's it. I'm fine, the baby's fine and healthy, and the only reason she said I should take it slow and rest was because I could develop pre-eclampsia, and _that_ is dangerous. Really dangerous, actually, but I'm not developing anything, Leon. Dr. Ayley doesn't even think I need medication."

He nods as if he really was overreacting a couple of minutes ago, but she knows he can see the fear in her eyes, she knows he can tell she's doing her best to keep her voice in check.

And they both know the situation is not a tiny little thing.

But then she says, "can we please focus on the other thing Dr. Ayley said? Can we please focus on the fact we're having a girl?" and he gives her a big smile, one that rises out of fear and sadness.

She's being kissed then, innocent and sweet, the kind of kiss that serves its purpose only in happiness. His stubble tickles her skin and makes her giggle, and when they break apart and he stares into her eyes, the blue is still dark and deep, he smiles again and it's only when he bends down a little to plant a kiss on the top of her belly that she bites the inside of her cheek and asks the world to let her be right this time, to let things end up just fine.

"Will you promise that you'll let me take care of you?" he asks.

She laughs.

"I'm not a child, you know."

"You're stubborn. And you hate being told what to do."

"Then don't tell me what to do."

"Claire…"

She rolls her eyes. "You promise to spoil me endlessly?"

He laughs, it's low and timid, but genuine.

"You're already too spoiled for your own good."

"Is that a yes?"

"Only if you promise to be good."

She's suddenly reminded of the first time he took her to meet his parents. At the doorstep, right before knocking, he turned to her and said: be good. She gave him a smile and asked him what could possibly go wrong.

After some small talk, his mother served them coffee and it was horrible and Claire burned her tongue on it and she suddenly couldn't stop laughing because meeting her boyfriend's parents had never been her thing, something always had to go wrong, and she honestly thought it would be different, but no.

She laughed like an idiot.

And she's pretty sure his mother still thinks she's crazy.

"Leon, I would never mess around. Not about this."

He brings a hand to her face, caresses her cheek. "I know."

There's a moment of silence in which they simply exist in each other's company.

Then Leon asks, "so…what should we name our little one?"

And Claire is pretty sure things are going to be just fine.

There's no other way.


End file.
